In the depths of an all-consuming black void, I tried to move my arms. The attempt was pitiful—my limbs, so weak and unfamiliar, barely responded. It felt like I was trapped in a body that didn’t yet belong to me, an uncoordinated mass of flesh with no strength to command it. Frustration bubbled within me, a helpless fury at my own weakness. I pushed harder, trying again, but my body refused to cooperate, as if weighed down by invisible chains. The sensation was maddening—a prison of flesh, unfamiliar and frail. My fingers twitched weakly, the effort draining, leaving behind a strange fatigue that shouldn't belong to a newborn. Every breath was shallow, each movement a monumental struggle, a war against my own useless form. I was trapped, locked away in a shell that refused to obey, and I could do nothing but endure the humiliation of my helplessness.

  I had braced myself for being reborn as a baby, but this was beyond ridiculous. Not even a toddler? Not even a newborn with the slight strength to grasp a finger? No, I was fresh out of the womb, raw and utterly helpless. My fingers twitched, the weak movements barely registering as my body refused to obey me. It was like being submerged underwater, every motion sluggish and heavy, an invisible force pressing down on me, restricting even the most basic of movements. Every tiny twitch, every shallow breath, felt like an exhausting feat of endurance. My chest rose and fell in an unnatural rhythm, like my own body had yet to fully understand how to function. The weight of my new existence pressed down on me, my mind sharp and aware, yet trapped within this frail, unresponsive shell. Panic threatened to rise, a deep, clawing dread that gnawed at the edges of my consciousness. I had never been this powerless before—not even in death. It was a new kind of vulnerability, one I had no choice but to deal with it.

  As I lay in this strange state, adjusting to my new body, I realized something else—my eyes were sealed shut. It was unsettling, but I had little choice but to endure. While trying to make sense of my predicament, the chaotic sound of panicked voices reached my ears. They were loud, almost frantic. My newborn senses were overwhelmed, but even without understanding their words, I could tell something was wrong.

  I focused harder, hoping to decipher some meaning. But I had no language comprehension—I had neglected to pick that skill. The realization struck me like a cruel joke. Too late now. The milk had already spilled. But even without words, the sheer urgency in the voices told me enough. Fear. Confusion. Something was terribly wrong.

  A strange warmth coated my body. It wasn’t comforting—it felt wet, sticky. A creeping sense of dread settled in my chest. Summoning all the strength my frail form could muster, I forced my eyes open.

  The world that greeted me was unlike anything I had ever seen. A dazzling, almost otherworldly room unfolded before me, filled with brilliant colors that shimmered and pulsed like living entities. Glittering trinkets adorned every surface, each catching the light in a mesmerizing dance. The walls were lined with intricate paintings, their artistry so vivid they seemed to breathe. Shimmering ornaments hung from the ceiling, swaying gently as though whispering secrets to one another. It was a sensory overload, a chaotic masterpiece of beauty that pressed into my mind with overwhelming force.

  Each hue stabbed into my vision like a raw jolt of energy, searing my newborn senses. My mind, still adjusting to my new existence, struggled to process the sheer intensity. Every sparkle, every shifting light, felt amplified tenfold, as though the world had decided to bombard me with an explosion of sensations all at once. I felt a strange, tingling awareness, something in my spirit stirring to the depth of the room’s presence. The very air around me seemed alive, humming with an invisible force I couldn’t yet understand. It was too much—too much to take in, too much to comprehend. My body tensed, my breathing uneven as I fought against the drowning sensation of this new reality.

  I turned my gaze downward, squinting against the overwhelming colors. My small body glistened—not from light, but from something thicker, darker. Blood. My blood. My heart clenched as a horrifying thought took root: My mother… she was dying from childbirth. My misery had followed me into this new life, hadn’t it?

  Before I could spiral further, a movement caught my eye. A woman in a neatly pressed maid’s uniform approached and carefully lifted me into her arms. My gaze, now steadied, landed on the figure of a woman lying weakly on the bed. My mother.

  She was beautiful. Breathtaking, even. Platinum hair cascaded around her pale face, framing her delicate features. Even in pain, she was mesmerizing. But she was struggling. Her expression twisted in agony, her body trembling from exhaustion. Panic gripped me again—was she going to survive?

  A soft murmur broke my trance. I turned slightly, and for the first time, I noticed another presence. Another baby. Another newborn being cradled in someone’s arms. A twin? My twin? The realization deepened my confusion. “I wasn’t the only one born?” My thoughts raced. “What’s happening?”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Before I could make sense of it all, a new figure stormed into the room—a man clad in pristine white robes, his garments adorned with silver inlay, and a church cross emblazoned upon his hat. A healer.

  He wasted no time. Raising his hands, he channeled a glowing green aura, surrounding my mother in its luminescent embrace. But this was no simple healing—his face immediately contorted with strain, his breath coming in short, sharp exhales. Sweat beaded along his forehead as the glow of his magic flickered, as though struggling against an unseen force. His hands trembled, the veins in his arms bulging from the sheer effort it took to maintain the spell. The light pulsed erratically, dimming and flaring, weaving chaotically around her frail form. A strangled grunt escaped his lips, his body wavering slightly, but he didn’t falter. The healer clenched his jaw, pouring every ounce of his power into stabilizing her.

  Her ragged breathing slowed, though it was clear the battle wasn’t yet won. Her pained groans dulled to soft murmurs, her body still twitching from the lingering strain. The panic in the room didn’t fade completely, but a small shift in the air signaled hope. Slowly, painfully, the green aura settled, its light no longer flickering wildly but pulsing in slow, rhythmic waves. He exhaled shakily, his shoulders slumping as the magic took hold. She was going to be okay.

  The moment her strength returned even slightly, she raised her trembling arms, silently pleading to hold us. Though her movements were weak, the sheer longing in her eyes made the maid hesitate only briefly before gently lowering both me and my twin into her embrace. The warmth that surrounded me was unlike anything I had ever known—soft, safe, and deeply soothing.

  This… this was a mother’s touch. Something I had never known in my previous life. I had seen it before, in passing, watching from the sidelines as other children basked in the affection of their mothers. But I had never once experienced it for myself.

  A strange, unfamiliar emotion settled in my chest—comfort. Security. Love. A raw, overwhelming feeling that made my tiny body still, as though afraid to lose this moment. My mother’s grip, though fragile, was firm, as if she too feared letting go. A soft, content sigh escaped her lips as she nestled us close, her warmth sinking deep into my very core. For the first time, I truly felt like I belonged. Like I wasn’t alone.

  As I nestled against her, she finally spoke. Her voice, though weak, carried the weight of overwhelming affection. “My beautiful babies… look, honey. This one looks like you. Brown hair, blue eyes… he’s a bit chubby, isn’t he?” A tired but genuine laugh left her lips.

  I blinked, startled. I could understand her. That wasn’t right. Just moments ago, I couldn’t comprehend a single word. Then, as if responding to my thoughts, a voice echoed in my mind. “Lan, I hope you don’t mind me intruding so soon, but I forgot to give you this language comprehension skill. You’ll need it to understand everything around you. I hope this helps.”

  Aria. Again. Why was she treating me so differently? Was I getting special treatment? The questions lingered, but I had no time to dwell on them.

  A deep, rumbling laugh suddenly filled the room. “Ahahaha! Honey, that one does look like me, doesn’t he?” The voice belonged to a towering man standing nearby, dressed in a formal yet rugged black and brown suit. His presence was imposing, exuding strength and authority. “But this one takes more after you. Look at that hair, those eyes! Still, like his brother, he’s a bit of a chubby lad, isn’t he?” The hearty laughter continued.

  Despite her exhaustion, my mother chuckled weakly. A tender smile graced her lips as she looked down at us. And then, in a voice filled with certainty, she declared, “From this day forth, you, my brown-haired son, will be known as Aerth. And you, my light-haired son, shall be named Lan.”

  The weight of her words settled over me. Aerth and Lan. Our names. Our identities in this new life.

  The tall rugged man, grinned proudly. “Those are wonderful names, my love! They are fantastic! I know with names like these, my boys will grow to be strong men—perhaps even heroes!”

  Just then, a butler entered the room, his tone crisp and urgent. “Lord Felding, you have pressing matters to attend to. I apologize, but you must come immediately.”

  This man… he had to be my father. Lord Felding.

  My father—Lord Felding Baraneve—sighed but nodded in understanding. His large frame loomed over us for a moment before he gave a final glance at his wife and children. “I’ll return soon,” he assured her before striding out.

  I barely had time to absorb all this new information before exhaustion pulled at my mind. My tiny body, already overwhelmed by the sheer events of my birth, struggled to stay conscious. I was dimly aware of my mother’s voice, soft and warm, whispering, “It’s so nice to meet you both, after so long. My name is Jain Baraneve… but you will call me Mama. No, you will call me Mama.”

  A flicker of something unreadable passed across her face—dark, intense—but it was gone in an instant, replaced by the same warm smile I had first seen.

  My mind surrendered to sleep, yet I fought against the pull of exhaustion. The day's events swirled in my thoughts—my unexpected rebirth, my mother’s near brush with death, my new name, my twin brother. It was too much, yet my fragile body refused to stay awake any longer.

  A gentle rocking sensation surrounded me, as if someone was adjusting the blankets in the crib. The faint scent of lavender drifted through the air, mixing with the warmth of the room. Soft murmurs from the servants lingered, their voices hushed yet filled with reverence.

  "Rest well, young masters. Tomorrow is a new beginning," one of them whispered, her tone laced with care.

  I wanted to stay awake, to listen, to process everything—but my eyelids were far too heavy. The last thing I heard before succumbing completely was the sound of my mother humming a quiet lullaby, a melody that felt strangely familiar, yet completely new.

  And with that, my first day in this world came to an end. My questions, my uncertainties… they would have to wait. For now, sleep claimed me, and the embrace of my new mother cradled me into a peaceful, dreamless rest.

  Celestial Descent—new chapters will be up on Wednesday and Thursday!

  Celestial Descent. It’s still under development, so it’s not quite polished yet, but hey, you’re welcome to join anyway! You’ll find the link in Chapter 15 and the Celestial Descent description, so feel free to hop in if you’re interested!